American Dream
by Regardless1604
Summary: Some wonder how Griffin came to the Valley, but there's a reason he rarely shared his embarrassing past. Written for swingdancer23's Dare Forum. One shot.


**This is written for swingdancer's Dares Forum, in which dare number four has to revolve around Griffin. All the stories written for this theme are dedicated to Peach the Hedgehog, meant as a big thank you for all of her work here on the Harvest Moon archive. So, thanks Peach! Your reviews and beta jobs are out of this world, and you've encouraged each and every one of us to do our best at writing. You deserve a big thanks from ALL of us writing in the Harvest Moon community. Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: Harvest Moon belongs to Natsume, not me.**

He was young, handsome, rich, a country star, and living the American Dream—was there anything else Griffin could possibly want? Maybe a stable relationship, but that could be taken care of. What woman would turn _him_ away? He could practically sing any fine lady into his arms! And sure, maybe he had a small drinking problem—but it wasn't much! It's not like it could destroy his life—well, according to his friends. His family had an entirely different idea. They were constantly chiding him for the way he lived, and told him that if he didn't clean up his act soon, bad things would happen. He ignored them, of course. Who needed family, anyway? Especially when they did nothing but rag on you.

Griffin swung his feet up on the oaken table in front of him and took a swig of bourbon. From across the desk, his singing contractor frowned deeply and shook his bald head.

"Son, if you're gonna wanna keep your contract with us, you best get some things in that crazy life of yours cleaned up." He readjusted the glasses that seemed too small for his plump face on his nose and shuffled through some papers.

Griffin laughed. "I'm just fine, bro! Get off my case! I mean, I'm still bringing in the big bucks, and that new record is sure to rack up some good money. Everything is _fine_!"

The man sighed, and his jowls moved along as he shook his head. "No, everything is _not_ fine. I don't think you realize this, but we're _losing_ money. And quickly, at that."

"Eh?" Griffin raised his eyebrows from behind the bottle.

"You heard me correct. Less people are coming to your shows, the records aren't selling too well, and this all is sprouting from one thing." He looked at Griffin expectantly, waiting for him to figure out what the problem was.

The singer thought about it for a second, then snapped his fingers, almost spilling the drink in his other hand. "I got it! It's the advertisements! We should probably get some on that fancy radio all the folks are buyin' these days."

He shook his head. "No. It's you—the way you're livin'. People're finding this bad, and don't wanna look up to a man like you. They think it's plain unhealthy for the soul to idolize a drunken playboy."

Griffin snorted. "Whatever. Let's just say I sign them papers you called me in for an' end this pointless convo already. It sounds like an awful good idea to me."

"My apologies, but those were false pretenses."

He almost spat out the liquid in his mouth. "What?"

The contractor sighed, like it pained him to explain. "Boy, you need to start actin' like a man; you're ruining your life, and if you continue down this path, you won't have one much longer." Griffin opened his mouth to speak, but the older man cut him off. "We—I and a few others in power—have consulted your family, and have decided to set you up on a rehab plan. If you don't dry out on your own, we'll be giving you a prod in the right direction—and it ain't gonna be a gentle one, hear you me."

Griffin's mouth hung open for a few moments, then blinked slowly. "Uh… okay then."

"'Okay then' what?"

"I… I'll get things straight."

This time it was the other's turn to blink a few times. "So… you'll get things put together without our help?"

"Sure, man! I never realized that this was such a big issue! I'll get my life put up straighter than a stick!"

He looked at Griffin with a skeptical eye, then sat back very slowly. Suddenly, he started laughing—a deep, bellowing noise that came from his stomach. "By George, I knew you would come around eventually! I knew it!" He lifted his hands and face towards the ceiling. "I knew it would take time, I really did! But he pulled through after all! He really did!"

The star looked at his half empty bottle of alcohol, then set it on the desk with a firm _thud!_ "The new Griffin starts here, now!"

It really was too bad the dear old man didn't realize how convincing his hotshot client could be, seeing how that conversation took place three months before…

A bottle crashed against the light green wall of the motel, and Griffin towered above a pretty young lady.

"What did you say to me, woman?" he demanded.

She stared him in the eye, unwavering. "Read—my—lips. We are _over_."

He growled in frustration and pushed her against the wall, and her heels crunched on the broken glass.

"We're over when I say we're over! You relationship rule don't!" It took him a second to realize his drunken slur. "You don't rule this relationship! I do!"

She blinked back tears. "I… I thought you were a different man before. But now I see you for what you really are—nothing but a drunk slug!" She quickly darted out from between his arms, and flung open the door. He grabbed for her, but only managed to tear off a piece of her dark blue satin dress.

"Get back here!" he roared, and took off after her, down the stairs in the complex. He rounded a sharp turn, but skidded to a halt when he saw what was waiting for him. The woman was standing in the middle of three other men, the only one he recognized being his old contractor.

The familiar man shook his head sadly. "Griffin, I thought you really were gonna change. It looks like I was a fool to ever believe such outlandish lies."

The other two men—both wearing long trench coats and hats—didn't exactly look pleasant. As the one on the right stepped forward, the other spoke. "I'm afraid we have to take you someplace you won't cause any more trouble. Don't worry, it really is a nice little town in the country, and they'll help you get over your alcohol problems."

Before he could respond, the man who was now closer to him took out a syringe and quickly stabbed it into Griffin's neck. He tried to struggle, but reality immediately started slipping from under his feet. He felt himself falling—or was he floating?—and the last thing he saw was his contractor standing over him.

"Sorry, boy, but it had to be done. It's only cause we care 'bout you."

* * *

><p>His eyelids felt like they weighed a ton, and his head hurt worse than any hangover he had experienced before. After struggling with self-will, he managed to rip his eyelids open. Another few moments to take in his surroundings. The room Griffin had somehow managed to get to was quaint with its plain wooden walls, yet it had a… homely feel to it. He sat up in the soft blue blankets of an unfamiliar bed, and spotted a few people standing in the doorway. First a large man entered the room, and a woman holding a small baby followed.<p>

The dark skinned man smiled, a welcoming feeling radiating from around him. "The name's Tim, and this is my wife Ruby, and our son Rock." The baby gurgled happily from his mother's arms.

Griffin's mouth felt like a pile of sand, but he managed to form a few words. "Wh-Where… where in the heck am I?"

"You're in Forget-Me-Not Valley. This is where the rehab center in the city sent you to, ah, 'dry out.'" The woman named Ruby answered, who couldn't have been more than twenty. "You'll be here for some time, and we'll be taking care of you, here at the Inn. But don't worry, you'll come to love this town, even if it is a bit small for city folk like yourself. It has a charm like that." She smiled warmly.

He turned around slowly in the bed, letting his feet drop to the floor. _So now I'm a prisoner here…?_

The three watched him as he lumbered out of the room. Griffin managed to get down the stairs without falling—which was a miracle in and of itself—but he only ended up smacking his head against the cold cobblestone once he got out the door. The Winter air nipped harshly at his face and skin, and blew like icicles through his thin clothing. He had to blink the pain out of his eyes as he pealed himself off the ground and took a look around. He could sense how small the town was just from a single glance.

At that instant, Griffin promised himself that he would sober up for real this time and get out of that terrible little hick village—it wasn't any place proper for a country singer idol like himself. He would do whatever it took. As soon as he was well enough, he would leave and never look back.

He never did.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This seems like it would be much better as a chaptered fic... I might actually do that one day. But as of now, it will have to remain a one shot. It is definately not my best work, but hey, I met the deadline! That was my main priority, seeing how the plot of this took me weeks to think of. Sigh... Anywho, if you haven't already, go check out The Dares Forum. It's awesome, and I would suggest it for any Harvest Moon fan.**


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